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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007885">Frosting the Cake</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys'>holyfudgemonkeys (erraticallyinspired)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>It's Kinktober 2020, babes [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>69 (Sex Position), Blow Jobs, Childhood Friends, Daddy Kink, Friends With Benefits With Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Getting Back Together, Hand Jobs, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Reminiscing, Rimming, because BABY BOY, jbbkinktober2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:34:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27007885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/erraticallyinspired/pseuds/holyfudgemonkeys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Vijay comes over with takeout and brings up some old memories.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Day 14: Sixty-Nine</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Malcolm Bright/Vijay Chandasara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>It's Kinktober 2020, babes [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Frosting the Cake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ever since their reunion, ever since they cleared the air between them, dusted off the misunderstandings that festered on both sides, Malcolm’s been seeing Vijay a lot more. Major Crimes doesn’t take him out of the city, and Malcolm himself doesn’t see much of a point in going on vacation when the most relaxing thing he can think of is immersing himself in a new case, but Vijay is all over the place on the regular. Whenever he’s passing the city, he stops by to catch up.</p>
<p>It seems fitting. Malcolm tried the whole running away from his past thing and found he preferred to be grounded. Vijay’s mind was always flitting from one idea to another, only ever settling in place when Malcolm wrangled him for a moment. </p>
<p>(It’s reassuring, too, that Vijay keeps coming back. </p>
<p>Malcolm will never begrudge him his wanderings, not when his fear they’ll never see each other again shrinks every single time his old friend darkens his doorstep.)</p>
<p>This time feels a little different, though. </p>
<p>Vijay knocks on his door around six. He grins wide and toothily when it opens, holding up a plastic bag of takeout containers. “What’cha doin’ tonight, baby boy?”</p>
<p>Malcolm blinks, steps aside, and waves him in. “Having dinner with a friend, apparently,” he says, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll open a bottle of wine.”</p>
<p>With a little cheer, Vijay sets the bag down on the island and immediately goes rummaging in Malcolm’s kitchen for silverware, and, admittedly, he does know where it is. This isn’t the first time they’ve skipped the restaurant reservations in favor of a little reminiscing at the loft. </p>
<p>This <em>is </em>the first time he’s stopped by without a text, even if said text comes in as he’s walking up the stairs. </p>
<p>There’s a bottle of white in the fridge. Malcolm pulls it out, absently noting it’s the one his mother dropped off the week before. He slips past Vijay to grab the corkscrew and deftly opens it up. </p>
<p>A hand reaches around him to deposit two glasses on the counter in front of him, the warmth of a body ghosting against his back. </p>
<p>Malcolm tilts his head up and back to catch Vijay’s gaze. He smiles. </p>
<p>Vijay stares a moment too long. “Bring the bottle over with you,” he says eventually. “Papa’ll drain that glass in no time.”</p>
<p>Used to him — again, and after so many years which always makes Malcolm feel warm to think about — he merely snorts and makes two trips to ferry the glasses and bottle over. He sets the bottle between the two main takeout containers. There’s a third placed between them, which Malcolm would put his money on being naan for the both of them. Whenever they ate Indian together, Vijay bought from a very specific restaurant, insisting it was the closest to the food his family’s cook made as he was growing up and that Malcolm wouldn’t know authentic unless Vijay showed him.</p>
<p>(He had. Many times. Malcolm even has a regular order at this point.)</p>
<p>They sit side by side on the barstools, their elbows brushing. </p>
<p>Malcolm glances at him as he digs into his lamb korma — very mild, which Vijay usually teases him for. “What’s on your mind?”</p>
<p>Uncharacteristically quiet, Vijay tears a chunk of naan off a round and uses it to scoop up a cube of paneer smothered in a bright green sauce. “Tell me, you ever think about the glory days?”</p>
<p>Malcolm holds back from telling him they’re only in their early thirties. “Don’t we talk about those every time you visit?” They talk about the present, too, about the turns their lives have taken and the kind of people they are now, but their relationship will always be rooted in the corner table boys. </p>
<p>“Nah, I mean, don’t get me wrong, those were the bomb dot com,” Vijay says, knocking their shoulders together. “It’s all multicolored frosting and sprinkles. I’m talking about the cake, the baby boy and Papa sponge.”</p>
<p>It takes Malcolm a moment to realize what he is talking about, but when he does, he feels a little stupid for not understanding immediately.</p>
<p>Vijay is talking about the one aspect of their boarding school days they’ve both glossed over since their reunion. The part that no one, not even the peers that mocked and ignored them, got to see. The time that was theirs and theirs alone. Once upon a time, they’d used the time they didn’t spend socializing with others with each other. </p>
<p>In their rooms. Experimenting.</p>
<p>Malcolm picks at a piece of naan and considers it. They were each other’s firsts — a lot of their firsts. At the time, neither of them held out much hope they’d be welcomed back into the higher circles, and, if Malcolm’s being honest, he did always have a crush on Vijay. Vijay never had anything bad to babble about him during those times, either. </p>
<p>(<em>God, baby boy, those thighs. Mmph.</em>)</p>
<p>Vijay doesn’t look at him, but he’s radiating nervous energy.</p>
<p>“Not in a while,” Malcolm says finally. Honestly. He shifts on the barstool, putting a hesitant hand on Vjiay’s arm, because, even if they’ve gotten used to each other again, he knows they’re not completely there yet. “You know I tried not to think about those years at all before we talked again.” He bites his lip. “I thought about us a lot back then.”</p>
<p>Vijay looks at him, really looks at him, and his face splits with a cocky grin. “I knew it,” he crows. “My baby boy’s always had a sweet tooth.” He cups Malcolm’s jaw with a broad hand, his thumb resting on his lips. </p>
<p>Malcolm pokes his tongue out. Licks it, on a whim. (The kind of whim that only Vijay could inspire in him.)</p>
<p>Vijay’s eyes darken. “I used to buy you those baby bottle pops,” he says, pushing his thumb between Malcolm’s lips. “You’re the sweetest tease Papa’s ever had.” He swallows. “You think they still make those?”</p>
<p>Sucking gently, cheeks hollowing, Malcolm keeps eye contact for a long moment before he tilts his head back and lets the thumb go with an audible pop. “I want something else in my mouth right now,” he says. He can feel the flush on his cheeks, the way it burns with its sudden intensity.</p>
<p>The matching flush on Vijay makes it worth it. He practically hops off the stool, straightening his shirt out of habit. “Papa’s here for you,” he coos as he pulls Malcolm to his feet, too. </p>
<p>It rips a laugh out of him, and this, too, is something he used to think about all the time. Vijay made him laugh the way no one had before, and part of him was convinced for years he’d never find a partner that could bring it out of him like this. Malcolm lets him tug them over to the bed. </p>
<p>Vijay lands on the mattress with a bounce and a grin. He tosses his dress shirt off the side to the floor. He unzips his pants and arches his hips as he shoves them down. “Let’s bake, baby.”</p>
<p>Malcolm strips and pads over to the bed. “How does Papa want me?” The set of his lips is fond, amused.</p>
<p>Reclining on his forearms, Vijay considers the question. They’d had no shortage of ideas back in school, no lack of options. He’d coaxed Malcolm into trying things he doubted his baby boy would have otherwise — at least not until he came out of his shell more. There was one thing they did more often than not, though. One position that made things quick and easy. He winks as it comes back to him. “I’ve got sixty-nine reasons to love you,” he says sing-songy and pats his thighs.</p>
<p>“Only sixty-nine?” Malcolm jokes, but he climbs onto the mattress and over Vijay, his knees up by Vijay’s shoulders, his elbows by his hips. Hovering over him, his cock hanging thick between them, is enough to conjure so many old memories. He dips his head and noses along Vijay’s length, eyes slipping shut. </p>
<p>Warm hands grip his cheeks and spread them. A hot puff of air hits his exposed hole. “It’s a metaphor for how <em>sex-ay</em> you are.” </p>
<p>Malcolm shudders as a tongue swipes across the furled muscle. He wraps a hand around Vijay’s cock and strokes it idly. “<em>Vijay</em>.”</p>
<p>Vijay kisses his asscheek. “Papa’s gonna take care of you, baby boy.” Leaning in again, he flicks his tongue over Malcolm’s hole, teasing him with little swipes of his tongue, never pushing in but never letting up, either. He’s gotten much better in the years since they’ve last done this.</p>
<p>Part of Malcolm wants to show him — wants to show his papa — that he’s learned quite a lot, too. He feeds the flushed tip into his mouth, just enough to suck at the glans, to swirl his tongue across the slit. </p>
<p>Vijay groans against his hole. The vibrations rumble against sensitive flesh. He licks one more stripe from the base of his balls to his hole before pointing his tongue and slipping inside. His fingers dig into Malcolm’s cheeks. </p>
<p>Malcolm muffles his whine with Vijay’s length, his head butting up against the back of his throat, so much thicker than it was the last time they did this. He swallows, hollowing his cheeks just as he had with Vijay’s thumb, and builds up a rhythm.</p>
<p>Slowly, Vijay slips a finger into his spit-slick hole.</p>
<p>Malcolm sinks down until his nose presses up against Vijay’s sack. His legs tremble.</p>
<p>Vijay’s hips twitch as he desperately tries not to choke his baby boy, and he wraps a hand around Malcolm’s cock as he works his tongue. </p>
<p>It’s so much better than years back. So much more — experience, skill, <em>feelings</em>. </p>
<p>With a throaty hum, Malcolm rips an orgasm out of his papa, swallowing thick ropes of semen down with eyes screwed shut. The hand on his own cock is uncoordinated now, clumsy even, but he’s so high off of the length in his throat that it doesn’t even matter. He pulls off with a gasp. His head falls to Vijay’s thigh, and he pants against his softening flesh.</p>
<p>“I got’chu, baby boy,” Vijay breathes against him before diving back in. He dips his tongue and fingers into his hole, strokes his cock with a firm grip and an unrelenting rhythm until Malcolm is twitching, spraying come along Vijay’s stomach and groin. </p>
<p>Malcolm drops to the bed beside him. His feet rest on his pillows.</p>
<p>Vijay shifts so that they’re no longer head to foot, both of them lying upside down on the mattress. He props himself up on one arm. “How d’you feel?”</p>
<p>“Like a teenager again,” Malcolm quips. He glances up at his old friend, hesitancy in his eyes. “I missed this.”</p>
<p><em>You</em>.</p>
<p>Vijay grins and flashes him his teeth again. “Papa missed you, too,” he teases. “I’ll bake with you anytime, baby boy.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is my first Kinktober! I'm planning on doing every prompt, so look out for more!</p>
<p>Prompt list I'm using can be found here: https://jbbuckybarnes.tumblr.com/post/627189398153363456/kinktober-2020</p></blockquote></div></div>
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